Being Bianca
by Hellsig Otoupeim
Summary: So I stop staring at the wall because right now you are the one to need me and if you do, then I'll just shove Hel at the back of my being and be your sister for the night. I pretend to be Bianca, padding to your bed and slipping in next to you. My arms wrap around you –because right now you don't need Hel, do you? OC x Nico, Nico x Percy, Hades x Poseidon (all one sided) Percabeth


If I close my eyes, I can feel arms wind around me.

I know they are just the figments of my imagination, the long lost thoughts of a broken mind –but they are here. Here with me; and that is more than you'll ever do.

Because you got him, don't you? You got the beautiful Son of Poseidon to dream of, the strong and sexy tanned skin, the deep sea green eyes –heck, he is a male.

And I'm not. I am just the skinny Daughter of Hades, your freaking half-sister though I refuse to let you call me that. I have the boring black eyes that don't sparkle like the sea, the annoying white hair which doesn't shine gently in the sunshine like his does, I don't have the taunt muscles under tanned skin –I am not Percy freaking Jackson.

I am not the one you love.

And even though he loves another, you just carry on dreaming. We are so alike in that aspect, don't you think? I dream of you, you dream of him and he dreams of her. Only, she dreams back doesn't she? She holds his hand when you wish it was you, she kisses his lips when you wish they were on you. She loves him, and he loves her –but who loves you?

I know you ask yourself those questions; don't try denying it. You wonder so often as to why it isn't love, why it hurts so much, why no one cares.

But let me tell you, love is a two way thing. If it's only you; it's pain.

I know it.

You come in the cabin we share, smiling from the eyes and so damn freaking _happy_ because you finally got a confession out of him. Of course it's not a love confession, but you know it is the best he'll ever give you and you are happy with that. You are pleased –because you got love back, even though it wasn't the one you gave.

Your eyes shine a little, the molten chocolate sparkling as you speak of him. You call me 'Sis' again, and I have to dig my nails into my arms to stop myself from correcting you.

I am not your sister. I don't want to be your sister. Stop calling me that. I am not your sister.

But you don't hear me do you? You just carry on, telling me of him, of his half broken reveal; that he loves you but not like you do. That even though he loves Annabeth, he considers you family and loves you as such. You smile dreamily when you mention that peck he gave you, slightly too close to your mouth to be just friendly. I know you blubbered and stammered with your words then, and I know he laughed at you that deep, rich laugh which is nothing like the broken ones I howl at you sometimes.

You carry on talking –you don't need me to answer. You are talking at me, not to me.

And I just sit there, staring at you and at your happiness, your eyes lighting up and your world so bright that it hurts. Your smile illuminates the cabin, shining from the inside and suddenly I feel as if a knife is driven through my heart, that frozen and pathetic excuse of a heart that just won't let you go. And it hurts.

So I just stand up, and you stop talking. You are looking at me weirdly, as I make my way to the bathroom.

"_Hel?"

Before I close the door on another day of your happiness, I utter those five words which I know hurt you –but they hurt me more, trust me.

"_I am not your sister."

And shut the door on your downcast eyes and broken face.

.

When I come back out again, you are staring at the ceiling. You don't speak as I walk past, refuse to look at me as I turn the light off and slip into my bed.

I wish we had separate rooms.

I wish I could retreat into my own space, curl into a little ball and just sit there, silently, allowing my heart to break and mend and break again in silence. I can't, because you are here and you would hear the sound of it shattering on the ground.

I still wish I could though.

So when you get up from your bed and trudge to the bathroom to get ready for the night, I don't move. I don't move, and wait for the door to be closed and the shower to be on before I tuck my head between my knees, curl up in a ball and silently breathe. It's all I can by now.

Breathe.

Try to remember I am alive, try to pull some deep buried feeling of happiness from somewhere inside my chest. I am pathetic and I know it –but you keep on calling me your sister and my breath keep on coming shorter and I wonder how long I can keep the façade on before it cracks and crumbles irremediably.

Who am I joking? It has already cracked and crumbled.

And even though you are not in the room anymore, I still clutch at those tiny fragments of that mask I wear, I still grip them so hard to try and keep myself together; because if I let it go tonight, it'll never be back up by the time you come out of the bathroom, never be back up by the time Phoebus rises, never be back up by the time I have to come out and face the world, Percy Jackson and you, Nico di Angelo.

It'll never be back on.

And as I feel my mask slipping in the silence of the room, as I unseeingly stare at the wall, I hear you come out of the bathroom.

I missed my chance.

So I'll hold the mask on, until tomorrow and the darkness recedes, until the light shines so hard on my pale skin that the cracks can't be seen, until the world is so loud that it has no time for my tears. I feel the side of my bed sink as you sit there, but I don't move. If I move the mask will slip and crack and crumble –and that's no good to you. You don't need me to crumble. You need me to hold strong, you need me to hold onto.

"_I'm sorry, Hel."

What are you apologizing for?

What do you know? How could you know?

No. you are not sorry.

"_I don't mean to hurt you. I don't get why –but if you don't want to be my sister, then you don't have to be. I'll stop. I swear I'll try to stop; but I would like you to be my sister Hel. I would. I really would."

And as you rise from my bed, I can feel my heart plummeting in my stomach and shattering in a thousand of little pieces, shards embedding in my skin so harshly your words don't even hurt.

How could I say no to this lie?

So I stop staring at the wall, because right now you are the one to need me and if you do, then I'll just shove Hel at the back of my being and be your sister for the night. I stop staring at the wall and I pretend to be Bianca, padding to your bed and slipping in next to you. My arms wrap around you –because right now you don't need Hel, do you? You never needed Hel. My arms wrap around you and I allow you to hug me back even though it hurts, I allow your hands to fist in the fabric of my shirt; and I allow you to murmur to me, as you drift to sleep.

"_night Bianca."

And I can't help but soften my voice, make it sing for you a little as, quietly, I reply:

"_night _fratellino_."

And I know you don't hear me when I say it, I know you don't hear my voice and see my face; but it's okay. It's okay, because you need Bianca and not me, and I know I'll never be her and all I can do is pretend to try and make it okay. So I shut up. I shut up and allow you to hug me and call me 'Bianca', even though I know you are not, as you often reason, calling me such because of my hair. I allow my presence to blur with the one of your sister –and even though you don't realise it tonight I am just holding broken pieces together again.

All I can do is hope you won't squeeze too hard, or I'll shatter in your grip.

But you don't need a broken me tonight, do you? So tonight I'll pretend I am not broken, I'll pretend I am whole and pure and Bianca, so that when you wake up tomorrow the cracks in your façade are a little less present.

I don't mind being broken if it means you are healing. I'd be a poor sister if I did, and an even poorer lover.

But still. Sometimes, I wish you weren't seeing Bianca when you hold me. I wish you weren't the one being held even though it is your arms which curl around me. Sometimes I wish you didn't call me 'sister'.

And tomorrow when I wake up, you'll be gone. You always are. You'll either be in the shower or outside. I won't see you until night again, when you come back to the Cabin with a smile on your face and a tale to tell –one of sea green eyes and cheeky smiles.

And it's okay. It's okay for you to heal, it's okay for you to smile.

I just wish you had waited for me.

.

Here we are.

Back to the same old square one again.

You have just walked in, eyes alight and hands flaring around you as you speak in a flurry of movements. You are alive, and I wonder how you can be so blind as not to see the difference in our eyes.

Yours are alive –and mine are dead.

But you carry on speaking. You speak as you push the door to our Cabin open, and I can hear your voice drifting from the other side of the Obsidian wall. You speak as you drop your shoes by the side, your old destroyers I got you years ago (you thanked me by calling me Bianca), and the tall boy next to you imitates you. You are talking with your hands, words flooding from your mouth so fast I wonder how you can spill so much without feeling judged as you let yourself fall onto your bed. Percy follows you in, sitting cross legged as you guys carry on talking.

I don't even know what it is about –but you haven't noticed me have you? I am watching from my bed, hiding slightly in the darkened corner as the stench of the sea overtakes my senses. It makes me want to throw up, want to bang my head against the wall at how fucking bright the smile on that idiot's face is, but I don't. I don't, because that would draw attention to me and I don't want you to notice me. I want to see you, to see the cracks in your façade.

In the end, I just got burnt.

I saw Percy's hand on your knee, and there was the quiet sensation that I _knew_ what was about to unfold but I sat there, frozen. My eyes widened as you stopped talking, halted in the middle of a sentence and a small part of me wondered how such a small touch could have this effect on you. How it could affect you this much –and then I realised. Your touch affected me that much as well.

So I sunk back in the shadows, trying to close my eyes as I saw Percy's hand shake a little. Your eyes seemed to be smouldering as you looked at him, your hands assured as they slipped behind his neck and drew him closer.

I needed to leave.

You didn't feel me shadow travel the hell out of there –because you were too engrossed in the man in front of you, too in love to even register I existed. And as the first moans erupted from your throat, his lips hovering over your neck in a silent torture, I wondered what the fuck I did to end up like that.

.

I stumbled into the underworld without a sound. Everything was so quiet here, so damn broken and lonely that I felt right at home. It is, after all. _Home._ The halls were so freaking cold and dark and quiet, the green fire casting great shadows onto the walls and I swear I saw monsters come to life before my eyes. It doesn't matter. Monsters only attack things that are alive.

I didn't know where Dad was. I didn't want to know. He would be as disgusted as you if he knew. If you knew.

I think you knew. I think that, somewhere inside of you, you knew what the fuck was going on. You knew why I refused to let you call me "sister", why on earth I hated you calling me Bianca and yet I stepped into the role you wanted me to wear every time you asked. I think you knew why I allowed you to break me –and I think it disgusted you.

As I silently crashed through the palace, I wondered how easily it would be for all of it to be over. I could argue a mistake. Shadow travel to Tartarus and allow myself to be broken. Argue I wasn't thinking clear when I phased through the darkness, and that I just landed on the wrong side of the Cocytus.

Would they have believed me?

"_no."

I didn't think Dad would hear me, but he had. Of course he had. I turned around, staring into those eyes so much like yours I wonder why I didn't just combust immediately. But I didn't. Dad smiled at me, an awkward smile because he is the King of the Underworld, but a smile nonetheless. He grabed my elbow –a little too harshly but it's okay, and supported my stumbling until we reached the wall. We sank to the stone floor, and an idiotic thought crossed my silly little mind.

I never pegged him for someone who sat on the floor.

.

He didn't speak, and neither did I. I didn't want to collapse quite yet. I wanted to hold strong, to pretend everything was alright because it is so much easier to ignore the cracks. If I ignore them, they don't exist, do they?

His hand on my arm was so light, his arm around my shoulder so gentle I immediately knew he knew I'd shatter if he held on too tightly. I leaned slightly against the father I hadn't had in so long, closing my eyes as I felt the last little pieces of my mask slip. I was scrambling to retain them, desperate to keep it close, to keep it on; like a safety blanket.

But Dad was here, and the mask crashed.

"_I know."

Two words. Two small little worlds which shattered all my walls to the ground, stripped me of all my denials and just left me there, in the cold corridor, with the old plain truth.

He knew, and I was in love with my half brother.

.

"_how?"

Silence had stretched after his declaration, so long and comfortable and rumbling that I wondered how a loving silence from a Dad could heal so much more efficiently than empty words from a lover. He was warm against my side, his arm so reassuring around my shoulder I silently understood why you always liked being held in your sleep. It is so safe.

"_I loved my brother as well, once."

I didn't act surprised. I was not surprised. I was not disgusted either –how could I be? I didn't feel anything, but a surge of misplaced gratitude.

I was not the only messed up one.

"_Poseidon?"

He nodded, smiling slightly. Yes, of course. It made so much sense didn't it? You and Percy –you and me. So much like him it must have hurt, in the end, to see us like that.

"_did Zeus…"

"_he did as well, and when Poseidon chose… things got dirty."

I didn't need to ask who the Sea-god chose. It was so clear, so obvious in my mind he had chosen Zeus' body over my father's love that I felt the same choice in Percy.

"_we are just going round in circles, repeating the same mistakes over and over again."

It was just a murmur, but I felt Dad's silent agreement at my words. Of course we were going around in circles, our pride was leading us to our fall. A thought, a truth spoken so softly I knew Dad didn't hear –but he didn't need to. He knew.

"_it hurts."

And as he nodded gently against my head, his face in my white hair, in my _capelli bianchi_ , I knew he was not going to say anything about it getting better. Not today. He'd say it, tomorrow or maybe the day after –because he does love Persephone. He'd say something about love and time, and healing with the gentle touch of a lover; but not now. He knew that right now, I didn't need someone to tell me it'd be alright. I just need someone to hold me and let me break, so that tonight I could let you hold me a little tighter without breaking.

He didn't say anything as I clutched his arms and hid my face in his embrace, he didn't say anything as Persephone –as mum came to sit next to us and encircled us in her arms; but his silence spoke tons.

About as much as my tears on his sleeve and the wetness in my hair from where his face was buried. About as much as the rain I know was falling down on earth and the shuddering breaths mom took.

.

I was the first to move. The first to berate myself for this and pull a fake mask on –with a little less cracks than before. It was late, and you were about to come back to the Cabin after dinner. I needed to be there, you'd want company and someone to talk at.

So I stood. I stood from their embrace, the tears long gone from my cheeks. I stood up, feeling the cold fingers wrapping around me as I left their warmth. Dad was still sitting, and mom somehow ended up curled up against him on his lap –and they looked beautiful like that. Dishevelled and broken and _healed_ , because they found love.

I smiled a little. It was small and broken and more like a grimace, but it was a real smile and I knew that it was all that mattered to them. I smiled a little, and as I stepped into shadows I knew I was not so broken anymore.

And as I stepped out of them, I knew I was an idiot to ever think that.

You and Percy were lying on your bed, entangled in one another and blissfully unaware of the world around you. There were tears on your cheeks and sadness on Percy's face as bitterness settled in the Cabin –another shattered love story. But it is okay. Our family has shattered so much we are pretty much immune to it by now.

I gently stepped out of the welcoming darkness, silently giving the two of you your privacy by leaving Cabin 13. As I walked into the red haze of the setting sun, I could feel my skin already tingling from the light. I was never very good on the surface, and the sun always hurt me more than anything; but you needed some privacy tonight. So I patiently trudged on, passing Cabins as I made my way to… I didn't really know where. To someplace dark.

And stumbled into a frizzy blonde head.

Annabeth had a slightly worried look on her face, as if she could feel in her guts the treason of Percy. Her eyes were alight with slight anxiety, and she was almost shivering from the lack of love. She fell into step quietly beside me, walking silently as we made our way to the shadows of the trees. She was the first to break the silence.

"_I told Percy to."

There was no response needed, and I didn't give her one. Simply allowed her to carry on and empty her heart.

"_I know he is your brother but –"

"_don't call him my brother. He is not my brother."

She seemed startled by the words, looking at me with wide eyes before she realised I was not going to offer any explanations and picked up again what she was saying.

"_I told him to spend a night with Nico. I had hoped he would see that… that it wasn't what he wanted but I don't know. What if Percy enjoyed it? What if he realises that he loves Nico? What if…"

Her face was hidden by her hands, as all her worries came tumbling out to me. She had never spoken to me before, and I wondered why she spoke to me and not another. I guess I am a daughter of the darkness –I see but don't speak. My cold hand rested on her shoulder.

It was my turn to comfort.

We sat down under a tree, away from prying eyes as I allowed the curly blonde to rest her head against me. I didn't like human contact, but she seemed to need it and I knew you would feel bad if you were the one to break the relationship which made Percy so happy. So I had to keep them together, to keep you happy.

I'd panic over her touching me later, as I shoved Hel back and became Bianca again.

"_Percy loves you."

My voice was assured, a true finality which rung in the clearing. The words resonated through her head, but I ploughed on.

"_he loves Nico as well, though not like he loves you. He sees Nico as a little brother, and when he realised Nico was aching he went into a defensive mode. He gave Nico was he thought Nico wanted –to make him happy. I am not saying Percy didn't want it, but I am saying he was confused. The line between family, friends and lovers is blurred here."

"_just like between you and Nico?"

I froze, eyes wide. She was addressing Bianca, not Hel. She couldn't say that type of stuff. Was it that obvious though? Was it that obvious? Did the mask slip? Had I been slipping? Was I crashing? Bianca. I had to be Bianca. Breathe in. out. Bianca. You are Bianca. Not Hel. Bianca. Act like her.

"_I am sorry. I didn't meant to. I just…"

"_yes. Just like Nico and I."

There. I said it.

Bianca and Hel melted for a second, and I found my breath again.

"_yes…"

It was so soft, the way I spoke. As if I wasn't even there. Maybe I was not. Maybe I never really was there. Who knew?

Annabeth looked up. The steel in her eyes was back, and the tears receded. She had found her certitude again –all was good. Maybe. I no longer knew.

I never really knew.

There was one thing I was sure of, though. One truth which was mine, and mine only to treasure and hold and share. You would need me. You would need me, tonight or tomorrow, when the weight of the world would come crashing down onto your shoulders and you would realise you had lost all that you could have had in this small fling with Percy. You would need me, when the darkness closed in and the voices became loud in your head again –and even though you'd call me Bianca you'd need me.

You'd need _me_.

Because I was the only one willing to be needed.

.

I came back to the Cabin to find you laying on your bed, alone. Your eyes were staring at the ceiling, unseeing, and the cover was still pooled around your waist from where Percy must have jolted out of bed. Sweat had cooled on your skin; giving you a shine and making it gleam under the green fires of the room. The sheets stuck to your skin, yet you did not look at me when I entered. It was almost as if you weren't there, as if your soul had left you and you were searching for it, somewhere past the ceiling you stared at.

You were blinded by the pain.

Carefully, I sat beside you on the bed. There would be no running around tonight, no pretence of being someone else than the one you needed me to be. Tonight, I was Bianca again –I would be until the sun rose and beyond that point: because you needed me to be Bianca.

Gently, my hand brushed sticky strands of hair from your forehead, trying not to look at your bruised hip or your scratched shoulder, ignoring the dark shadow spreading under your jaw from where Percy must have bitten and sucked and gnarled at. Something flickered in your dead maroon eyes, as they focused beyond me.

"_Bianca…"

Tears began to gather in the dark chocolate depth, silver drops trailing gently down your perfect face. They left small tracks of glowing pain behind, as I bent down to kiss them away. Your hands weakly came to encircle my back, gripping at my skin and burying in the fabric of my shirt. You pulled me down to you, hiding your tear stained face and growing sobs into the crook of my neck. Tremors were racking your body, coursing through your small and oh so weak frame in that moment. My lips moved to your ear as I gently began to rock back and forth, gently singing to you a quiet lullaby.

"_hush, hush. The darkness will rise from the deep… and carry you down unto sleep… hush, hush. The darkness with rise from the deep… and carry you down onto sleep…"

Your hands on my back hurt, the fabric stretching across my body and pulling at my skin. Your fingers dug into the soft flesh of my back, as strands of hair were gripped into your fistful hold. It hurt, and my voice broke as you clenched further.

I've always believed I didn't hurt half as much as you in that moment.

"_guileless son, I'll shape your belief and you'll always know that your father's a thief. And you won't understand… the cause of your grief but you'll always follow… the voices beneath…"

Your crying eased, as your grip on me. You allowed me to rock you back a forth for a little longer, before suddenly pulling away. Your eyes burnt with underlying anger and latent hurt, your chocolate gaze looking at me and setting me on fire with a glance.

"_I hate him! I do!"

Your voice was growling, an unearthly sound rumbling from the very foundations of the earth and rippling through the room.

"_no you don't."

My voice had been so calm, so quiet and full of assurance that you recoiled at it; and I knew I had been right. You loved him so much it hurt, loved him so much you allowed the boy to bend and break you. Silly, silly boy. You were worth so much more.

Your hands were tugging at your hair, pulling and tangling in the dark locks. I gently took your wrists in my hands, forcing your fingers open and freeing your grip on your scalp. Your hands glided along your face, nails digging in the soft skin of your forehead as you pressed your palms to your eyes.

"_I hate him! I hate him!"

It was all you could say, all you could do to convince yourself of the sweet lie. I hugged you gently.

"_hush… hush."

Your fists balled on my arms, your voice hoarse from crying and shouting.

"_no! I hate him! let me go! I hate him! I hate you!"

The last words had me recoil away from you. I startled back, shuddering at the venom in your voice. Your eyes widened, your hand gripping my arms which had started to slacken around you.

"_no! I don't! I don't! Don't leave me as well! Don't leave me!"

You curled into a ball as I sat there, slightly frozen by the violence of your words.

I knew I wasn't good enough, I knew I was just a replacement for your sister but… to think that you hated me…

He was angry, the hopeful part of me said. He was angry and trying to exteriorise his hate, he needed to scream and shout and you were there to be screamed and shouted at. It would have been anyone. Look at how he is crying, bawling and calling out to you now. He needs you. He may not know it but he _needs_ you.

As I wrapped my arms around your naked form again, pulling the covers to hide you, keep you safe and warm, the hope died down.

"_don't leave me Bianca. Please don't. I'll be good I swear. I won't bother you ever again. Please stay Bianca. Stay with me. please…"

I closed my eyes, hating the moisture in them. I had cried already today. I had cried enough. Hugging you tighter, I shadow travelled out of Camp Half Blood and back home to the underworld, taking you with me to hide away from reality.

.

Gently, as not to wake you up, I eased your small exhausted frame down onto your bed. We had stumbled into your room at the palace a few hours ago, hours of you crying and begging to hate the boy you loved so much. You had fallen asleep not long ago, your head lolling in fatigue against my neck. I was simply holding you by the time Dad had noticed we had come, and he and mum had made their way through to your room to see the reason for our sudden appearance. A look at your bare olive skin hidden under the thick black blankets of Camp Half Blood had been enough answers for Dad to place a comforting hand on my head and help me lower your sleeping form down onto your fluffy mattress, mum bending over to place a reassuring kiss onto your brow as I made myself more comfortable, your strong grip on my shirt binding me to your side. Dad drew a chair from a nearby desk and mum sat beside me on the bed, her hand stroking your arm as mine tangled in your hair. Your grip slackened a little as you made a noise of contentment, something sounding a lot like the name of your sister.

I swallowed heavily as I adverted my eyes.

"_what happened?" questioned Dad, though all three of us knew.

"_Percy happened, I guess. A mix of missing Bianca, frustration and need for some caring."

Because I wasn't enough, I had never been and never would be. Swallowing became suddenly harder again, as my breathing turned shallower. Dad's comforting hand was now on my leg, his thumb gently drawing circles on the fabric of my black jeans.

"_it's okay, Hel. It'll all be okay."

I looked down at you, sleeping.

No. it wouldn't be. Not for a long time. It hadn't been for a long time either. It wouldn't be okay, _I_ wouldn't be okay for so long as I loved you and you loved Percy. It would never truly be okay –not until I learnt to grow up past the pain. Not until I learnt to let go, stop holding onto the past and onto the pain. Not until I stopped bearing my own grudge against myself.

"_I need to take a walk." I suddenly announced, lifting your head suddenly and rising from the bed. "I need to clear my mind."

Dad and mum exchanged a glance I didn't care to decipher, before she rose as well and quietly announced she would accompany me.

"_Tartarus is still out of bound, Hel." Reminded me my Dad. I quietly shrugged.

"_he still needs Bianca."

"_and the world still needs Hel." He reminded me, rather sharply. I dismissively dropped my shoulders again. What kind of world would it be, that it should need a fake like me? Mum followed quietly in my footsteps, silently walking beside me out of the suffocating room and into the coldness of the halls.

"_how are you?"

Her voice was so soft I wouldn't have heard it had it not been for her hand on my shoulder. I threw a smile over my shoulder, glad I could still pretend everything was fine after today.

"_much better, thanks. Crying did help."

Her dark orbs told me she wasn't fooled, but mum had enough tact to let it go. We walked silently side by side for a while again, her hand brushing against mine from time to time as we entered her orchards and silently meandered through her gardens.

"_he is still young, and so are you. One day, everything will make sense again –and you will be able to move from the past."

I knew she was making a reference to Dad and his brothers, but the bitterness didn't disappear.

"_he still lost them."

"_he did. But he found something else instead. He found you and Nico, and Bianca and Hazel. He found you –and you make him happy."

"_and you."

"_and me." she conceded with a smile. "but I came after. After you healed his heart and showed him he could love again. I came after the darkness passed, and all I do is keep the darkness at bay. You fought the darkness, Hel. You, Nico, Bianca, Hazel… you fought the darkness and saved your Dad."

My arms came to curl around me, as if I were cold. I hunched over, protecting my core from her words. They were a fire, a spark created to melt the ice which encased me. It rang through my head, shouting as a small hurricane the words of a light which would chase my own darkness away. I squeezed a little bit harder, and imagined.

I imagined strong, toned olive arms wrapping around me, a warm body nearing me from behind as I gently relaxed into it. I imagined graceful hands with long fingers tangling with mine, resting on my stomach and a chin –pointy and bony though delicate and graceful –slipping on my shoulder. A slightly cold nose nuzzling my cheek, letting the warmth slowly slither from my skin into his. I imagined –and the cold hurled over me.

I was alone. There were no arms, no chin, no nose. Only the cold flow of the Cocytus, the quiet presence of souls nearby. There was nothing but the darkness of the Underworld and the soothing light from the Phlegethon, far, far away into Tartarus.

The urge to go there over took me again, as I let my eyes wonder over the tortured landscapes and broken earth. Everything was charred, branches of charcoal black rising to the darkened heavens in a plea of forgiveness. The earth was beaten by the hot winds of the Pit, scorching over the dust and raising silent shadows of blackened sand with every whirl. It was landscape of desolation and despair, one of dark agony and endless suffering. It made me ache for the burning of the sand, forced my eyes to look into the abyss and see the life of Tartarus calling out to me.

It was indeed more alive than I would ever be.

As silently as the vision of endless despair had arrived, the comforting hand of my mother on my shoulder brought me back to the present.

"_life does not end when paths part –a new chapter merely begins."

That day was the day I decided to let you go.

.

The first step was that night. You had awoken to your room in the underworld and to the quiet presence of our Dad, immediately embarrassed by your behaviour in the previous hours. You were sitting with Dad, cross legged and dressed, when mum and I entered the room once again. The two of you were discussing of things without importance, quietly bonding as a father and son only could. Mum's hand on my shoulder squeezed reassuringly as I smiled softly at the quiet contentment on your tired face. The pain was still there, a shadow in your eyes, but there was something lurking in the darkness –a spark which would not go out.

Your chocolate eyes widened when you saw me, as you rose from the bed.

"_Hel! I am.. uh. Sorry for yesterday. That was mean and –"

"_it's okay, Nico." I smiled softly, resisting the urge to tell you it was nothing I hadn't heard before. "you were distraught and lost. It's fine."

"_no it's not!" you counter argued, ready to apologize again but I stopped you. I quietly hugged the man you had become, hiding my face in your shoulder as mum came up behind us and engulfed the whole of us in a big hug which Dad joined soon after.

That night, when you called me your sister once more, I didn't correct you, Nico. I simply smiled and tousled your hair. It was a first step towards letting go, a baby step towards being Hel again –but I had been Bianca for far too long.

As you called me your sister again, a little bit of my pain went away.

And who knew. Maybe, in a distant future, you would learn to love me for Hel, and not Bianca. But for the moment, I was content to recline in my bed and look on as the drama unfolded.

P.S.: I placed my bet on a Nico x Percy x Annabeth threesome after a little chat with the distraught girl. (Who knew Daughters of Athena were so open minded?) So erm… I have a good tenner on there, Nico –don't forget that!


End file.
